IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTERESTING MEETING BETWEEN MAJOR POTTER AND
HIS WIFE POLLY.
MAJOR ROGER SHERMAN POTTER lived in a little red house in the
outskirts of the town of Barnstable. There were two crabbed little
windows in front, for it could boast of but one story, and a narrow
green door, over which a prairie rose bush clustered, as if to hide
its infirmity. A small window, reminding one of a half closed
jacknife, and in which were two earthen flower pots containing
mignonnette, set jauntily upon the roof, which was so covered with
black moss, that it was impossible to tell whether it was shingled
or tiled. Indeed such was the shattered condition of the little
tenement, that you might easily have imagined it suffering from a
forty years' attack of chronic disease, and quite unfit for the
habitation of so great a military hero. The major, however, had a
peculiar faculty for reconciling humbleness with greatness, and
always overcame the remonstrances of his wife, (who was continually
urging the necessity of a larger tenement, in accordance with their
advanced popularity,) by reminding her that General Scott, who was a
great military hero, and to whom the nation owed a debt of gratitude
it had no notion of discharging until after his death, was kept poor
and humble by the nation, merely for its own convenience. In truth,
whenever Polly Potter upbraided the major for not keeping up proper
appearances, he would mutter so that her ears could not escape the
meaning, that rags might cover a nobleman, while the knave might
scent his fine linen with the perfumes of Arabia. In reply to this,
Polly would remind him in her own way, that tattered garments and
good society were not the fashion of the day, and seldom went
together.
"Well, here I am, wife! in an unsuitable condition, I confess," said
the major, stalking into his little habitation, and embracing his
wife, who had been waiting his coming in great anxiety, seeing that
old Battle had arrived nearly an hour previous, with the tin wagon
in a very disordered condition. "Heavens! my faithful husband, my
dear good husband, what has happened?" shrieked his wife, standing
aghast for a moment, and then throwing herself almost fainting into
his arms, as two shy looking and ill clad little girls, and a boy of
some twelve years old, clung about her garments, and commenced to
cry with all the might of their lungs. The major's wife was a
slender, meekly attired woman, with exceedingly sharp features, a
bright, watchful eye, evincing great energy of character, and a
complexion which might be considered a compromise between the color
of Dr. Townsend's sarsaparilla and the daintiest olive-induced, as
the major afterwards told me, by bilious disorder.
The major was at a loss how to account to his wife for his shattered
condition, nor was he conscious of the disordered state of his
nether garments, the rent in which had been made larger by the
process of getting him out of the pit. However, as her recovery was
almost as sudden as her notion to faint, and seeing that nothing
serious had resulted therefrom, he placed her in a chair, and
commenced recounting to her how he got into the pit, which he swore,
and made her believe, was set for him by his enemies, who had for
many years bore him great malice, in consequence of his fame, which,
God knows, he had worked hard enough to gain. "La's me, husband,"
said the artless woman, making him a return of her affections; "it's
just what I've a dozen times told you they'd do, if they'd only a
sly chance. There's Robins Dobson, who has been trying for years to
be Major of the Invincibles, and it's just what his wife wants. She
wants to see his name, with the title 'tached, in the Patriot some
mornin'. Poor folks has a hard enough time to get up in the world,
and when they gets up, everybody wants to pull 'em down. That's the
way the world goes." As it had always been a custom with the good
woman to believe no greater military character than the major ever
lived-an opinion he shared to the fullest extent-so was it the most
pleasing thing with him to reciprocate the honor by asserting,
whenever an opportunity offered, that history afforded no example of
a military hero ever before being blessed with so good a wife.
Indeed I very much doubt whether there ever existed a heaven in
which love, joy, and mutual confidence were so liberally exchanged
as in this, the major's little tenement. As for furniture, it could
boast of but little, and that of the shabbiest kind. It was true,
there was a print of General Scott hung upon the discolored wall,
and another of Zack Taylor, and another of General Pierce, mounted
upon a ferocious-looking charger, and about to demonstrate his
courage (not in attacking the lines of an enemy) by rushing into the
thickest of a hailstorm. By these, especially the latter, Polly
Potter set great store, inasmuch as they illustrated the major's
taste for the profession of which he was so illustrious a member. I
had almost forgotten to mention, while enumerating the portraits of
these great generals, that there was hanging over the tea-table (as
if to do penance for some grievous wrong committed against that
venerable institutution) a picture of General Webb, who had
distinguished himself in several great battles, fought in the
columns of an almost pious newspaper, published in Wall Street, New
York, and whom Polly Potter verily believed, having heard it of the
neighbors, to be a wonderful diplomatist, which was rare in so great
a general.
"And now, seeing that we have had but scanty fare for the week past,
and have got deeply in debt to the grocer, who has twice threatened
to take our little things for pay, pray tell us of your voyage, and
what success you have met with;" said the good woman, which reminded
the major of his neglect of his faithful horse, which, in reply to a
question concerning his arrival, he was told had come safely home,
and been put in the barn, but without either pig or chickens. The
major was not a little surprised on hearing this account of his
team, and repaired at once to the barn, where he found old Battle a
little jaded, but otherwise in his usual good condition, and as
ready as ever to acknowledge the caresses of his kind master. To his
utter astonishment neither pig nor chickens, upon which he had set
so much store, as constituting the larger half of his available
profits, were to be seen. He now swore either that the town was full
of thieves, or that it was another trick of his enemies to deprive
him of the means of sustaining his hard-earned reputation. His wife
now, evincing great grief at the sad misfortune, held the lantern
while he counted his skins and tin ware, which he found to tally
exactly with his account of stock, which he kept on a dingy slip of
paper, with the exactness of a cotton broker. "Curse on these
enemies of mine; they are all an evil minded set of blockheads!"
ejaculated the major, pausing to consider a moment, and then heaving
a sigh. "Husband, curse not your enemies," enjoined the confiding
woman, "for the Scripture teacheth that we must pray for them; and
you know we have much need of being exalted above them."
"I leave what the Scripture teacheth to Parson Boomer," interrupted
the major, "who deals in that sort of commerce. Scripture, as I take
it, has little to do with one's military reputation. And, may the
devil take me if I don't think military men get it right nine times
out of ten, and won't be far behind them in getting to heaven, (I
mean the parsons,) unless they look well to the state of their
morals."
Being very short, and stout, and singularly duck-legged withal, the
major, having had his attention called to the condition of his
garments, drew forth his cotton handkerchief and hung it about his
loins, as a means of protecting the exposed state of his battery.
Thus protected in his dignity, he resolved that his wife should bear
him company, and together they would sally down the road a mile or
two, in search of his lost live stock. As this necessarily incurred
some danger to his person, which it required courage to overcome, he
thought it well to step into the house and get his sword, a weapon
that never failed him, and with which, according to his own account,
he had killed innumerable Mexicans. Having girded on this venerable
weapon, he came forth as never before did military hero, swearing to
have satisfaction of every enemy who chanced in his way.
Let it be understood by all my military acquaintances, that I mean
no offence in what I have here written. Nor must it be inferred
because I have thus accoutered the major, who must be set down for a
military politician, that such is the fashion with all great majors
and colonels; for indeed history furnishes no account of their going
to war with what is generally accepted as their most vital parts
protected with pocket handkerchiefs, not even when fleeing before
the enemies' bullets. Nor would this history sustain the reputation
for truth I have from the beginning resolved it shall maintain with
generations yet unborn, were I to leave unrecorded this act of
heroism, seeing that it has so many counterparts among those who
affect the profession of arms, and are honest enough in their belief
that the nation's battles cannot be fought without them.
And now, having prepared himself for a tilt with assailants, rather
than a search for his pig and poultry, he strode forth, his wife
following a few steps behind, lantern in hand, and so regulating the
shadow as not to obstruct his vision. Being a woman of great
kindness, and much given to religion, his wife would pause every few
steps, and enjoin the major to treat his adversary, if any he should
chance to meet, with great consideration. There was no knowing, she
said, but that it might all be the work of some mischievous boys.
"That may be, wife; but they are set on by older heads. There's
Captain Tom Baker, and Sergeant Prentice, of the Invincibles, in it
somewhere! And they'll never stop molesting me until they have felt
the weight of this sword!" returned the major, touching the hilt of
his sword, and quickening his pace.
They had not proceeded far, when the rippling of a brook, and a
slight rustling of leaves among some bushes by the roadside, caused
the major to halt suddenly, half unsheath his sword, and place
himself in an attitude of defence. "I said we should find them,
wife; and may the devil take me if I don't make dead men of them in
a trice."
"Truly, husband, it is only the wind and the brook you hear, and
which, at this hour of the night, sounds very like the talking of
conspiring men," interupted the woman, as if to encourage the major,
who shrugged his shoulders, and began to show signs of fear in the
backward and cautious movement of his steps. "As I hope to be saved,
wife," returned our hero, in a modified tone of voice, "though it
takes more than a trifle to alarm me, who has seen much service in
Mexico, I am not mistaken. A vagabond of some kind lurks in the
bushes yonder, for I heard his voice as distinctly as if it had been
bawled into my ears. There! hear you not the sound of his footsteps?
Go you ahead with the light, and leave the rest to me."
"Pray, husband, do not let your fancies lead you to rash acts."
"Rash acts?" rejoined the major, "to kill a score of such lurking
vagabonds would only be doing good service for the devil, who merits
one's aid now and then." In evidence of her faith in the cause of
the sounds, the good woman advanced forward, and, followed by the
major, with his sword drawn and braced, they proceeded cautiously on
over the bridge, though not until our hero had several times stopped
to listen, which he declared was enjoined by every rule of the
profession, and was a means to avoid surprise while advancing upon
an enemy.
Having ascended the brow of a hill, a short distance beyond the
bridge, it was agreed between the major and his wife, that, being
out of danger, they might now look more after the lost property and
think less of assailants. The major, in the meantime, commenced
giving his wife an account of the pig's knowing qualities, which,
together with a description of the eccentric swine driver, amused
her not a little. If the pig, she argued, was possessed of one half
the gifts set down to him, he would take care of himself for the
night; and as to the chickens, not even the black people who lived
on the hill, would think of coming out at night to steal them-for
though they were proverbially fond of keeping a large poultry yard,
and not over scrupulous of the means by which they supplied it-they
were too sparing of their energies to waste them at that hour of
night. She therefore enjoined that they return peaceably home, and
leave the search to be resumed at daylight. The major admitted the
reason of his wife's argument, but declared his determination to
traverse the road round and return by way of the tavern. It might,
in truth, betray a want of courage, did he retrace his steps at this
stage of the road.
"As to courage, husband," said his wife, holding the lantern so near
that the shadow reflected over his broad face, "I am sure you have
already proved that you are not wanting in that; and as there are
but a few hours until daylight, we had as well go home and get us
comfortably to bed." The figure of a man, whose dusky shadow
reflected along the fence, was now seen approaching in the road. The
major had no sooner descried him, than he fell in with his wife's
opinion, and as a practical illustration of his faith in it,
commenced retracing his steps so fast that it was with much
difficulty she could keep up with him. Looking neither to the right
nor the left, he continued on until he had gained the house, from
the door of which he turned to look back, when, finding the figure
had vanished, he said with an air of regained courage, that it was
not that he feared the miscreant, but having a wife and three
children dependent upon him, he could not hope for forgiveness were
he to risk his valuable life in combat with a lurking vagabond. He
therefore shut the door, partook of an humble supper, and went
quietly to bed, leaving the pig and chickens to take care of
themselves until daylight.